


Slate

by Kyne_7



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-28 04:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15040865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyne_7/pseuds/Kyne_7
Summary: Garrus can't mourn Shepard properly when he's surrounded by her, so when the opportunity presents itself to travel to a whole new galaxy—a whole new future—Garrus grabs at it. In Andromeda, he's far away from Shepard's memory and all the things that haunt him, and now, confronted with a shiny new cluster, a ship that is nothing like the Normandy and a Pathfinder that is nothing like his Commander, he can finally start to move forward.This is the Mass Effect Andromeda AU that no one really asked for but it's such a shame Garrus wasn't in the new game, and while I do love Kandros, there's no substitute for my original favorite turian.





	1. Chapter 1

Citadel, 2187

 

Garrus had never been... _great_ with emotions.

His best relationships—friendships, romantic partners—understood that and respected it. It had helped, of course, that one of his closest friends had been a krogan. His truest companion, however, had understood, respected, but also been _patient._ Shepard had always waited until he felt comfortable talking about something, nudging just a little to remind him that expressing his emotions was healthy, but never pushing, never forcing. Shepard had coaxed it from him and never once made him feel lesser for it.

 _Spirits,_ he missed Jane.

But sadness, loneliness, _grief,_ were all emotions, and it had hollowed him out to grieve for her the _first time_ she’d died. He didn't think he had it in him to survive it now that this second death was _permanent_.

Maybe that was why he'd run several million light-years away from the Milky Way.

The prospect had sounded promising. A turian ark sent to find a new golden world, to expand into a new galaxy.

It would help the image of the project, the Council said, if such a well-known figure as Garrus Vakarian were to volunteer.

He had accepted the suggestion before they'd even discussed the details.

But he hadn’t made it on the First Wave arks, which had already launched over a year before the Reapers attacked. Now that the threat of the Reapers was no longer looming, they were going to launch the second wave, perhaps the _last_ wave. They were including their history of the Reaper War, they said, but how wonderful would it be to have an actual war hero guiding further exploratory missions in the Andromeda galaxy?

A six-hundred-year nap in a cryo pod sounded like _just_ the thing. He wrote to Wrex—similarly to emotions, Garrus was absolutely _rubbish_ at goodbyes—but Tali, who had remained on the Citadel after the war, came to see him personally.

“I know why you’re doing this,” she’d said when he opened his door to her.

He wanted to play coy, to pretend he had no idea what she was talking about, but the words died in his throat when she softly added, “I miss her, too, but this won’t bring her back.”

“I know.” He cleared his throat. Of course he _knew_ , did she really think he didn’t?

“This isn’t how she’d want you to mourn.”

“I don’t care what she wants.” The verb tense slipped, bitter and harsh, and he was of course lying. He cared _very much_. The only reason he hadn’t followed her into the abyss was that he imagined, if there were an afterlife to meet her in, she would be so very _disappointed_ with him. “I just...I need a fresh start, Tali. Everyone else has moved forward. You, Joker, Wrex, Liara—I just want the chance to do it differently the second time around.”

Tali was nodding slow; he could tell she was still concerned about him, but there was no chance of talking him out of it.

Shepard would have tried anyway.

 

* * *

Nexus, 2821

 

He awoke with a gasp and a wave of nausea, mandibles fluttering. A human man introduced himself as Dr. Harry Carlyle, gave him the whole spiel he was sure every colonist got—they were on the Nexus, in the Andromeda galaxy, within the Heleus cluster.

“You can expect a bit of disorientation, that’s normal,” said Dr. Carlyle. “Usually takes an hour or two before you’re up and about without any dizziness—”

An hour or two. Garrus scoffed, letting the doctor finish his scans and promptly standing. “I don’t want to take time away from your other patients, doctor.”

Carlyle raised an eyebrow, but didn’t stop him as he left, choosing to mutter under his breath, “Bit big for his britches, ain’t he?”

Garrus didn’t let it phase him. If people on this station knew of his history, knew of his medals and accommodations, and avoided him for it then all the better. He was keeping it closer to the vest this time, this galaxy. His turian heart couldn’t take another Shepard.

 _Jane_.

The dizziness was there, but bearable as he left the medbay. The Nexus seemed like a smaller Citadel, the layout mostly the same. It aided him in finding central security, remembering the Council had briefed him that he was to meet the Chief of Security to obtain his new Andromeda credentials.

The security office was empty except for a human woman and a tall male turian, involved in a heated discussion. He approached with hesitation, not wanting to interrupt but also unsure of what, exactly the Chief of Security looked like. Or their name. It could have been either of the pair, or neither, and the dizziness was persistent and the nausea was getting worse—

Then his eyes saw the red stripe on the helmet the woman held tucked under one arm, the tell-tale N7 symbol at its temple, and he nearly blacked out.

 _Jane_.

It wasn’t Jane—he hadn’t truly thought it _was_ , though a tiny infinitesimal part of him _hoped_. The hair was all wrong, black instead of copper and cropped close like a man’s, and she was shorter than Jane was. Had been. Damn, these tenses really were going to kill him.

She looked younger, too, he noticed as he approached the pair again. She laughed at something and the turian put his taloned hand on her shoulder and said, “Don’t ever tell him I called him that, Pathfinder.”

The woman— _Pathfinder?_ —made an X over her heart with her index finger. “Swear on my life, Kandros.”

The turian, Kandros, chuckled and the sound rumbled low with his subharmonics. Garrus could tell immediately, turian to turian, how fond of the human woman he was. Garrus wondered if the woman knew.

“Excuse me,” he said, taking another step forward. “I’m here to see the Chief of Security.”

Kandros let his hand drop, straightened his back into a more formal posture. The woman, however, was still casual when she jabbed her thumb at her turian companion and said, “That’s this stiff motherfucker right here, Tiran Kandros.”

Kandros flinched. “You know I hate that idiom, Ryder—” He stopped and shook his head, addressing Garrus instead. “Sorry. She does this to get a rise out of me. How can I help you?”

“My name is Garrus Vakarian.” He stuck out his hand. “I was told to report here?”

Kandros shook his hand with vigor, smiling. “You must have just woken up, you didn’t have to rush over here. The Second Wave arks only docked a few hours ago.”

Garrus shrugged, eyes drifting back to the human woman Kandros had called “Pathfinder,” and wondered why she hadn’t left yet.

Her eyes were shining, and she elbowed Kandros’s chest plate. “Introduce me,” she hissed. “This is _the_ Garrus Vakarian!”

Kandros rolled his eyes. “This is the human Pathfinder, Sara Ryder. One of the only reasons this cluster is even habitable.”

“I’m utterly _thrilled_ to meet you, truly,” said the woman, shaking his hand with enthusiasm. Her grip was firm, her cheeks pink with her blush. _Jane rarely blushed_ . Truly, there were no similarities after all. “My dad had a replica of the Normandy in his room—” She lifted the helmet sheepishly. “He was in the N7 program, wouldn’t shut up about it when Commander Shepard became a Spectre—” Garrus felt himself pale and the woman pressed on, most likely unaware. “What was she like? I’d love to sit down and pick your brain a little if you don’t mind—”

Kandros shushed her and said, “Try not to overwhelm him. I’m sure he’s sick of all the fawning attention.”

“Why do you always have to ruin my fun, Tiran—”

This human talked _so much_. Garrus had barely been able to say anything, barely been able to catch up with what she was saying, and the other turian male seemed to notice his discomfort. He winced in apology and offered a small smile.

“She takes some getting used to,” he said to Garrus, as if that explained it all. “But she’s been a blessing for the Nexus, for all of us. And believe it or not, she can actually be quite charming when she wants to be.”

“Hey now,” said Ryder, scowling, “what do you mean _actually_ —”

“Pathfinder!” Now it was Ryder’s turn to pale.

“Hide me!” she hissed.

Kandros began to laugh. “Looks like Tann has found you.”

“Dammit, Tiran—”

She never got to finish that sentence, interrupted by a salarian with a purposeful gait. She plastered on an overly large smile.

“Director Tann!” she greeted. “What a shame, I’ve just been called back to the Tempest —”

“Oh, no you don’t,” the salarian snapped. “I’ve been trying to intercept you during your last _four_ dockings, I keep trying to tell you, we’re _far_ overdue for a debriefing on the current terraforming state of Eos and you’re _getting_ a new crewmember whether you like it or not.”

The smile dropped from her face, something Garrus noticed with slightly interest. He leaned against a beam for support, muscles still a little unused to holding him upright after an extended period of stasis.

“I told you, my team is fine the way it is,” she said, voice unyielding and cold. “ _You_ may not understand this, director, but there’s a balance with my crew. We’ve all worked too hard and too long for you to just throw something new into the mix and expect everything to remain unchanged. I’m already fighting to keep Drack from leaving the Tempest, and Jaal took so long to trust us—”

Kandros’s voice was low when he stopped her gently. “Sara, I think you’ll like who we’ve chosen.”

“ _You’re in on this too?_ ” Her voice raised an octave with the hurt from his perceived betrayal. “Fuck, Kandros, how many times have I come to you complaining about _this exact scenario_?”

“Pathfinder,” said Director Tann. “You will _not_ refuse someone with a record like Garrus Vakarian.”

This time, Garrus found himself echoing the woman, their voices in perfect time: “What?”


	2. Chapter 2

Garrus stared hard at this "Pathfinder" from across the circular meeting room table, through the blue glow of the vid screen.

"Yes, Scott, I know," she said. "I'll be there as soon as I can, but I've got Tann pulling me in one direction and Addison in another and Vidal just sent me an email that there's another uprising brewing on Kadara. I already sent you a strike team from APEX, that should be plenty while I get this shit straightened out."

She had plump cheeks and large blue eyes, more like a cute pet than a strong leader. How did anyone take her seriously? A leader should have a strong jaw, a firm upper lip (that was the human saying, wasn't it?), a merciless gaze—

_ Jane, his Jane, only soft when she was with him _ —

Honestly, how did this one get so many different types of people and species to follow her? 

Her brother, Scott, was scowling in the vid. "Cora told me you've been making side trips to Habitat 7."

"There's still a lot we don't understand about the Remnant, I've been getting scans and research the teams on Nexus can't get on their own. It's vital to—"

"What's vital is clearing up more worlds for habitation. We don’t have time for you to be messing around on a planet where the vault isn’t functional and terraforming isn’t an option.”

“Dad died down there, Scott,” Ryder said sharply. “And there are glyphs down there that we haven’t seen on any other planet. I haven’t even been able to unlock the vault yet but SAM says that the information I’m obtaining is crucial to understanding—”

“We've still got several thousand colonists from the first wave we haven't thawed yet, not to mention the second wave has already arrived—"

"We'll take care of it," she snapped, rubbing her temples. "We'll take care of it, okay?"

She'd gotten them all together just before the call, introduced him to the crew. Their names meshed together in a way he wasn't sure he'd be able to detangle, but all around—aside from the new species called angaran, whose name he easily recalled was "Jaal"—it gave him a twisting feeling of similarity. One of the human males on the ship, a close companion to Ryder it seemed, reminded him of Alenko despite the deeper skin tone and strange accent. Ryder's right hand, the aforementioned Cora, struck him as oddly similar to Ashley, though more militarily rigid and less blatant in her prejudices—except against the krogan, who even sounded on occasion like Wrex. The asari architect was nothing like Liara, too childish and bouncy, but the doctor had similar hue and coloring. Vetra, the only other turian aboard, was the only one he could pull easily from the slush of his mind, and only because she reminded him of absolutely no one at all. 

The layout of crewmen on the Tempest, so familiar to the ship he'd been on before, made the nausea roil back full force. 

The fact that the Tempest, in technology and design, was drastically different from the Normandy helped him a bit to breathe. 

And the longer he stared at Ryder, the longer he  _ listened _ , the more he was satisfied that she was no Shepard. Not even close. 

This...discomfort would fade, he was sure. He was just still too raw. 

"Sorry," Ryder apologized softly. He realized she was speaking to him, having closed the vid conversation with her brother. "Scott was a soldier, before Andromeda, so he likes to be all action all the time. I preferred the scientific approach before...before I became Pathfinder." She flinched, eyes self-conscious and apologetic. "You should've been assigned to him." 

"He's not the Pathfinder." Garrus had read up on everything he'd missed while sleeping, all available research on their new worlds, the Remnant, the history of the woman in front of him. He knew the importance of a "Pathfinder" to the Initiative, figuring her elevated status was a result of her successes in finding the other First Wave arks and defeating kett across the galaxy. There was very little official information on the kett and the Archon, but he was reminded— _ again, again _ —of the geth. 

"No," she said, and her voice was strangely tinny, her gaze staring off at nothing. "He's not the Pathfinder." 

Director Tann had been adamant of the public relations implications of Garrus's assignment to the Tempest. Garrus found he didn't like the salarian in the slightest, and it seemed the sentiment was shared among his new crew. His new Pathfinder. 

"Have you decided where you're going?" he asked, and then cursed under his breath. He had meant to say "we." He was part of her ship now. 

If she noticed the slip she didn't acknowledge it. "Scott wants me back on Voeld. He's been having issues with kett, and the vault hasn't been activated yet, but I've sent him backup and he can handle himself fine, he's never needed my help for anything in the past." She sounded oddly bitter talking about her twin. He had established that they were supposed to be quite close. "Addison wants me working on the viability of Eos, they're still having issues with fresh water, and Director Tann thinks I should be working more on diplomatic relations with the angara on Aya." 

Garrus nodded. "And you would like to return to Habitat 7 to research the Remnant."

She sighed heavily. "I usually give everyone shore leave first and go on my own. If it's in my "free time" no one can say I'm not doing my job as Pathfinder."

Garrus frowned and said without thinking, "It seems you are doing several jobs." 

Her cheeks flushed again. He hadn't meant to compliment her, but she stumbled out a thanks before he could remedy it. She gave him a small smile and said, “Have Cora show you your quarters. We’re all pretty...informal here. Jaal is sleeping in the tech lab, Peebee’s in the escape pod, Drack set up in the galley. But there are  _ real  _ quarters, if anyone bothered to use them. I’m going to figure out our flight plan.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, retrieving his data pad, and noticed that she hesitated at the stairs. 

“I know this probably isn’t ideal for you—hell, you were a member of C-sec, you were a war hero—but I’m more than glad to have you on the ship. It’s an honor, really, and I know I’m nothing like Shepard—I could never hope to be, the woman was a marvel, the eighth wonder of the goddamn  _ world _ —and I won’t ask your reasons for joining the Initiative, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Garrus knew that buried in that long-winded tirade was a nice sentiment, so he did his best to return her smile. She was trying, he could see that, and it was good that she wasn’t trying to be like Shepard. Preferable, actually, in a multitude of ways.

She nodded at him and left, tapping a few times on her omnitool as she went. When he heard the door behind her close, he counted to five and then made his way down to the cargo bay. If his mind wouldn’t quiet, he’d have to just work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be more focused on Sara's perspective. I was thinking about switching perspectives every few chapters for a more complete point of view. Updates will be as regular as I can manage!


	3. Chapter 3

Sara was relieved that, besides her usual habit of talking too much, she hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of _Garrus fucking Vakarian._ She closed the door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall.

“Pathfinder, your heart rate is still elevated. Does the turian make you that anxious?”

“Of course he does, SAM,” Sara hissed into the privacy of her room. “He’s a goddamn celebrity.”

“It is worth mentioning, Pathfinder, that to most others in Andromeda, _you_ are a celebrity.”

“Yeah, but he’s…” She knew SAM didn’t understand her. The AI also didn’t understand her residual discomfort with a position that had been handed to her, rather than her having earned it. But she knew someone who would.

She tapped a few times on her omnitool, and within moments heard a deep, flanging voice chuckling at her.

“Really, Sara? You left the Nexus three hours ago.”

“If you’re busy, we can talk later,” she said, bristling, and heard voices in the background. “I know you’re a very busy turian, Kandros.”

The chuckle came again. “Never too busy for you, Pathfinder.”

There was a gasp in the background and the voices stopped. She waited another few moments, and he signaled that he was alone when he said in a softer tone, “What’s wrong, Sara?”

She gave a shuddering exhale, running a hand through her short, pixie-cut hair. “I just...I feel like such a phony compared to him.”

“Him? Him who?”

“Garrus.”

“Sara,” said Kandros, a warning in his voice.

“No, listen, this isn’t like when Cora mopes about not being the Pathfinder. He didn’t say anything to me. He seems perfectly game to take orders from me. And that’s the _problem_ , Kandros--he saved the entire Milky Way from utter destruction, he fought alongside Jane Shepard--he’s _earned_ every single commendation he’s ever gotten through blood and sweat and sacrifice--and I’m only Pathfinder because my dad died and arbitrarily picked me--”

“Sara,” he interrupted harshly. “You have earned your title a hundred times over. How many people have you helped, _saved_ from the kett? How many planets have you single-handedly made habitable? How many sacrifices have you made for the good of the Initiative?”

She felt her hopelessness ebb, like a retreating tide, at her friend’s words. “What if I don’t compare to Shepard?”

“You’re not Shepard, you’re Ryder.” Kandros snorted loudly, a quirk she’d always wondered about--how was his physiology capable of a snort without the properly-formed nasal cavity for it--and he added, “If he compares you to Shepard, he’s a moron and I’ll be amazed he has lived this long.”

She couldn’t help the short, choked giggle at his words and he sighed.

“There it is,” he said fondly. “Don’t worry, Sara. Just do what you always do. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“First thing when I dock,” she promised, “like always.”

“First thing,” he echoed.

She cut the call and started to pace. Having SAM inside her head was something innately distracting. Sara needed to get better at tuning him out or separating him from her own thoughts. In the meantime, she gave another sigh and said, “Where do you think we ought to go, SAM? What’s top priority?”

The AI seemed to ponder for as moment, if AI were capable of pondering, and then said, “Top priority should be given either to the kett presence and unactivated vault on Voeld, the uprising on Kadara, or the Roekaar attacks on New Tuchanka.”

“Wait, what was that last one? Roekaar?”

“Yes, Pathfinder. It seems Mayor Archana has sent you an email about a rising threat from the Roekaar during expeditions from the outpost.”

Sara swore loudly, immediately stomping from the haven of her room and making her way to the bridge. Suvi came over the intercom--“Pathfinder, Jaal wants to speak with--”

“He can talk when we land,” Sara snapped, storming onto the bridge. “Kallo, set course for Elaaden.”

“Pathfinder?” Kallo questioned.

Suvi frowned. “Everything alright?”

“Everything is _great,_  Suvi, I love being the personal security for everyone in the galaxy.” Sara sent a quick all-teeth grin to the science officer, hoping to convey that she wasn’t angry at _her_ in particular, but she couldn’t quite pull back the thick, biting sarcasm. “Kallo, Elaaden if you please.”

“Yes, Pathfinder, of course.” Kallo punched in the coordinates. “Should we...prepare for combat?”

“Only if you’ve been a bad salarian,” she joked, then sobered, her anger flashing fresh. “In our line of work, always be prepared for combat, Kallo.” Sara turned away from them. “Tell Jaal and Garrus to meet me at the cargo bay when we touch down.”

She went up to the meeting room, sharply instructing SAM to prep the vidcon frequencies at the circular meeting table. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, assuming it to be Lexi or Jaal down by the research and development station, or maybe Liam getting out of her warpath, and ignored them. Across the table from her a holographic turian flickered into view.

“Ryder?” he asked, understandably confused.

“Avitus,” she greeted. The turian Pathfinder, one of a handful of people, besides Jaal and Kandros, who rarely used her title. His predecessor had died in the early days of Andromeda as well, and they’d grown closer through mutual understanding; their position was a difficult one. “I need to ask you a favor.”

The former Spectre sensed her seriousness when he noticed she hadn’t cracked a joke. “Anything, Ryder.”

“How close are you to Kadara?” She explained what Vidal had told her about the Exiles and the supposed uprising, and passed along Vidal’s frequency. “I’ll be there as soon as the Roekaar on Elaaden are dealt with, but I’m worried what’ll happen if it goes on like this at Kadara.”

“You mean to use the presence of a Pathfinder to deter the Exiles for the moment.” Avitus nodded. “I understand.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him. “I knew I could count on you, Avitus.”

The video of him must have been on the fritz, she could have sworn the coloring on his face deepened, blurring the outline of his black facial markings. “Of course, Ryder. Stay safe on Elaaden.”

“I’m always safe.”

“Remember when you partnered with me and Kandros during the kett attack on Port Meridian?” Avitus chuckled.

“Hey, I saved your ass.”

“You blew up three canisters of omni-gel.”

“They should’ve taught me in school that shit was flammable, and they shouldn’t have clustered it in an area where there was going to be gunfire.”

“It’s usually not explosive unless _someone_ is using incendiary rounds.”

“Hey, hey, hey, I don’t tell you how to shoot people.” She smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, Avitus. I’ll be there soon as I’m wrapped up.”

“Take your time, Ryder. I can handle things for a while.”

They hung up and Sara rolled her stiff neck in preparation for the combat sure to come.


	4. Chapter 4

Sara Ryder was somehow marvelously popular with turians, Garrus noticed with wry curiosity. First the turian head of Nexus security, then the former Spectre--Garrus recognized Avitus from the Citadel, he’d been a Spectre trained by Saren before he went rogue and had left when Saren betrayed the Council. From the way turian males seemed to relax around her, Garrus imagined Ryder would have even made friends with a stiff like Nihlus back in the Milky Way--before he’d died of course. What was it about her they both found so pleasant?

She was angry when they disembarked the Tempest on Elaaden, muttering curses and mumbling about the Roekaar. Garrus hung back slightly with Jaal, who noticed him staring after their leader.

“The Roekaar frustrate her,” he said. “More than the kett. She can...understand their founder, Aksuul, and that makes killing them harder for her. And, I think, despite that, she is scared at how much she wants to kill them.”

“You just said--” Damn, he wasn’t going to get along with this alien at all if he talked in riddles like this.

“She understands Aksuul, what sparked his fear. But the Roekaar are xenophobic fanatics, they’re a danger to everything she’s built.” Then, Jaal hesitated. “They also...killed someone close to her. She...met someone here, early on, and the Roekaar hate aliens so naturally any hint of a union with an alien is considered an abomination.” Jaal watched Ryder’s hunched form with a look of sympathy. “Maybe she will tell you herself one day.”

Another alien interested in Ryder. Garrus began to wonder if she was as popular with males of her own species. Or perhaps it was something that transceded gender--he’d already seen a few glances from the other asari on Ryder’s team, so it stood to reason that maybe there was just something  _ general  _ about aliens and Ryder. Shepard had had that same quality, if he was being honest, but it was easy to see why for Jane. She commanded respect, attention, and there was a particular edge to her scent that made her very appealing indeed. Whereas Ryder…

Hn. He supposed if he was around long enough he could befriend the one called Kandros and get him to explain it. 

Garrus hung back while Jaal and Ryder spoke to the mayor of New Tuchanka, a mostly krogan outpost from the looks of it. He perked a bit when he heard Ryder mention someone with the name of “Urdnot,” but made no move to interject. He didn’t know these people. Even when Ryder introduced him, he gave a simple wave of his talons and ignored the initial fawning that Mayor Archana doted on him. Ryder was still antsy with rage as the mayor explained the situation, explained their scouts had found the location of the Roekaar encampment set up not twenty miles from the settlement; the human Pathfinder shifted her weight from foot to foot, restless.

“SAM,” she barked when the mayor left them, “drop the Nomad.”

Garrus and Jaal piled behind Ryder in the land vehicle, her hands tight on the steering. Even angry, it seemed she was a conscious driver. Despite the multi-terrain capabilities of the vehicle, Ryder kept them on even ground, taking turns a little too quickly but nothing haphazard. Garrus almost felt himself smile when he remembered the first time he’d gotten in the Mako with Shepard. She’d driven them off a cliff, claiming it to be the fastest way to their objective, and she’d said it so calmly that he’d burst out laughing. He’d never heard Tali’s voice so small with fear either than when Shepard backed it into an entire battalion of geth before ordering them out, guns at the ready--

“We’re here,” Ryder said, cutting through his memories of Shepard. “Just on the other side of that ridge. You can see the antennae from where they’ve set up.” She was...more serious than he expected, given her penchant for sarcasm and lightening the mood.

“What would you have us do, Ryder?” asked Jaal.

“Kill things,” Ryder responded promptly, and the angara rolled his eyes.

Ah, there was her usual tone.

“Ryder, please.”

“What? It’s Garrus’s first mission with us and I don’t know how they liked to do in in the Milky Way but here in Andromeda we like to kill shit.”

“ _ Ryder _ .”

She reached between the two aliens toward a rectangular weapons stash, throwing it open with one arm and retrieving a strange looking, angular weapon.

“Assault rifle,” she explained when she saw his expression. “Remnant. We call it a Sweeper.” She also checked to make sure her pistol was still on her hip, opening the doors of the Nomad and standing to strap the Sweeper to her back. The pistol was much the same coloring and similar angles to the rifle.

“And the pistol?” Garrus asked.

She smiled. “This one’s the Equalizer.”

Shepard had been partial to shotguns, particularly her Crusader. It made him her perfect right-hand, picking enemies off from afar with his sniper rifle to keep her flank protected while she charged in. From the looks of the barrel on Jaal’s weapon, even with what limited knowledge of kett technology Garrus had, his gun also resembled a sniper rifle. Had Ryder brought  _ two  _ snipers on this mission? What kind of strategy was that?

As they exited the Nomad, Jaal seemed to read his expression. This was going to be exhausting if he couldn’t hide his thoughts from his other teammate--

“Usually she brings Cora, or Drack,” Jaal explained, “for the close combat role. She hangs in the midground. Depending on terrain and if we’re facing kett or not. I accompany her on more scientific missions, or if we’re traveling somewhere with a heavy angaran presence. She brings Vetra anytime we go to Kadara. Her strategy is just more...personality based than skill set.”

If Garrus had been a human, he imagined his eyebrows would have rocketed straight to his hairline. “And this particular venture?”

“I can hear you guys talking about me,” Ryder said ahead of them in a huff, her voice filtered through the microphone in her headset. “Comms are on.”

Garrus at least had the good graces to look embarrassed.

“I pick two long-range fighters this time because I’m pissed, and I’m going to crack some Roekaar skulls.” She cracked her knuckles through her gloves. “I just need you two to pick one of my sides and keep them off me if I get too carried away.”

“Wouldn’t an easier solution involve  _ not _ getting carried away?” Garrus muttered, and to his horror Jaal merely laughed.

“You have much to learn about our Pathfinder,” the angara said fondly, and Garrus winced in response. “Come, Garrus. I’ll take the right side, you take the left?”

Garrus grumbled and unhooked his own sniper rifle. He worried very briefly he’d already managed to insult his new shot-caller, but those worries abated when her voice came back through the comms: “Hope your aim is as good as the history reports say, Garrus. My left side has all my favorite bits.”

Jaal gave another hearty laugh, and the trio trekked over the ridge to the Roekaar encampment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone plays Ryder a little differently, but for me I always charged in guns blazing and I thought the lack of planning/strategy would suit the character since her background is canonically that she didn't have any official training, just whatever training Alec had given them.

She was not exactly cracking skulls, per se--Garrus didn't realize that had been an idiom--but she was certainly thinning their numbers. Her strained, breathless voice in his comm was muttering numbers while he picked them off at a distance, and he watched through his scope as she shot an alien in the chest and then did a leaping stab to impale another with the pointed end of her upgraded omnitool.

"Ryder," Jaal's voice chimed in. "We can hear you keeping track."

"Sorry."

She didn't sound all that sorry, Garrus thought. She also didn't seem like she was getting any less angry through the fight. If anything the close quarters combat was making her more so.

Garrus flared his mandibles when she got careless and left her back turned on two Roekaar, lifting themselves from the cover of a barrier to aim for her. He shot one in the head, it's companion turning to search for the origin of the shot; Garrus gave a slow count of five to wait for the cool down and popped the companion. Two clean shots.

Out of curiosity that he almost couldn't help, he raised his scope to find Ryder. He couldn't see her face through her mask, though her short laugh and heavy breathing gave him a general summary of her expression, but she raised an arm and gave him a quick thumbs up.

"Thanks, buddy," her voice crackled over the comm.

Jaal chuckled low. "I think that means you owe him a drink."

Garrus clicked his jaw. "What?"

"Ryder made a...joke that anyone who saves her life gets a drink. On her, as they say."

"I bet she buys a lot of drinks," Garrus mumbled.

"Not as many as you'd think." Ryder didn't sound offended, though he realized he should really try to be kinder to her-- “Plus, most of the time we all end up even before we’re back on the Tempest.”

“Fair enough, Ryder,” Jaal relented.

The Roekaar forces were thinning, Garrus noticed. They’d gone through most of them. Jaal sniped one crouched behind a divider and then all was quiet. Garrus cautiously stood from his position, gun still at the ready.

“Woo!” Ryder exhaled in a shout, stretching and beaming at her teammates.

Garrus’s spine stiffened. This woman--

“Job well done, boys,” she called loudly. He frowned as he approached her, especially when he noticed that despite her exuberant tone, her eyes looked so tired… “Let’s get back to New Tuchanka, eh?”

“You’re bleeding, Ryder,” Garrus said dryly.

“Most of it’s not mine.” She rolled her shoulders, holstering her weapons, as her shields flickered in a blue egg shape around her.

How long had they been down, without time to refresh?

She was too _reckless_ \--

“Ryder,” said Jaal, his voice low and serious. “You and I both know angaran blood is blue.”

Garrus took another look at the human Pathfinder, noting that while there were patches of blue liquid smeared along her arms and dotted on her cheek, the vast majority of the coloring on her chest plate was a dark red.

“I’m fine,” she said, waving him off a little weakly. “Lexi will get me patched up.”

Garrus sighed, shouldering his gun, and walked over to the smaller woman. “Jaal, can you drive the Nomad?”

“I am _fine_ to drive, mister,” Ryder protested. She took a few shaky steps past him, and when she looked about to stumble he slid an arm around her waist and forced her arm around the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’ve had much worse, tell ‘im, Jaal.”

“You have, in fact, had much worse,” Jaal said. “All the same, I think I shall drive.”

 

* * *

 

Lexi gave a sigh when Garrus brought the Pathfinder into the med bay.

“What is it now, Sara?” said Lexi.

“Nothing much, doc.” Ryder flashed a grin. “Another successful mission, that’s all. Liam is giving the mayor the good news as we speak.”

“And all this blood?”

“Well, funny story, it turns out our newest member is a bit of a worrywart--”

Garrus’s mandibles flared. “Stop being so flippant.”

There was a rumbling chuckle from the doorway. The krogan, Drack, leaned against the wall and observed. “You’re gonna need a new chest plate, kid. That armor’s no good with such a huge hole in it.”

“Hey, you should see the other guys.”

“This isn’t _amusing_ .” Garrus couldn’t believe they were all being so lax about all this. How often was Ryder seriously injured? Sure, _some_ damage would come with the territory--she had some dangerous responsibilities, the rules of probability stated she wouldn’t always come out unscathed. But Shepard had at least been _careful_ , she’d been _prepared_ , she hadn’t just run in like some cocksure, arrogant, impulsive--

Lexi eyed him as her hands worked deftly, stripping the damaged armor away from Ryder to get a better idea of the wound. “You’ll find you’re in the minority here if you’re going to get upset every time the Pathfinder gets a scrape. While I appreciate that you can see how abnormal this behavior is--trust me, I used to think I was the only one--you’ll drive yourself insane.”

“This is a madhouse,” Garrus mumbled. He needed room to breathe, needed space to clear his head. What kind of operation had he gotten himself involved in?

“Wow, you learn fast,” Ryder joked. “Now, uh, if you guys could just…” She waved her hand, flicking her fingers in a dismissive motion. “Lexi’s gonna have to take my shirt off, and, uh…”

Drack practically roared with laughter. “Sheepish, are we, little one? As if I cared about a naked human female, you’re all too fleshy for us krogans. Sweet that you still get embarrassed about things like that.” He left regardless, and Garrus followed him out, frustrated and partially disgusted.

He didn’t see Ryder again until they’d docked on the Nexus, where she passed him on her way from the med bay to the ramp. She tried to smile, wincing, and he could tell she was heavily bandaged beneath her casual clothes.

“Look, ah,” she said, hesitating. He tried and failed to even out what he was sure was a fearsome scowl. “I’m sure you’re used to things being a little more...rigid, I guess?”

“Organized,” he supplied, quick and short, and she flinched again.

“Right,” she mumbled. “To be expected with someone like Commander Shepard. But we’re not...We’re not a military operation, Garrus. None of us have any real _formal_ Alliance training, some of us don’t have any combat training at all. We’re learning as we go along. I’m sorry if that...bothers you. But we could use your expertise and training--”

“ _You_ could use it,” he interrupted, and his tone was harsher than he intended. “You can’t just charge in somewhere, you’ll get yourself killed.”

“It’s been working fine for me so far, thanks.”

He could tell that she was trying to tread lightly, trying not to match his anger. “Don’t you see how your actions affect everyone around you? What if one of your teammates tries to rush in after you, or tries to protect you, and gets killed because of it? How would you feel if that happened because you were too _rash_ to approach the situation with some _strategy_ \--”

“You’ll understand, of course, if I don’t take advice on my team from someone who’s been with us for less than fourteen hours.” Her eyes narrowed. “This team works, Garrus. It’s not Shepard’s squad, it’s not the Normandy, but we _work_. I’ve saved the galaxy, too, don’t forget.” She mussed her short hair. “I’m late to give Addison my report on New Tuchanka, and in the morning we’re taking off for Kadara. If you’re not on the ship at 0800 I’ll assume you asked Kandros to reassign you. It might be for the best--you’re more suited for Scott’s team, he was a soldier, or for APEX. I’m sure Kandros will find you something else.”

He stared after her as she left, so stunned that he nearly let the datapad in his hand fall. Was she kicking him off the ship? A reckless little human girl was kicking _him_ off the--

All because he thought she should be more _careful_?


End file.
